girls chase boys (chase girls)
by WhiteLadyoftheRing
Summary: AU. Snow White is the deadliest assassin in all of the Enchanted Forest, but when she teams up with the infamous Captain Hook to kidnap Prince James, things don't go exactly as planned.


_For SassySnow1988, who was unreasonably amused by my descriptions of playing videogames, thus spawning an entire fic to work in one ridiculous line._

_Warnings: Dark!Snow, foul language, anachronistic language, crack and copious amounts of sass._

* * *

_**girls chase boys (chase girls)**_

Her father would be rolling in his grave to see her now: the beautiful Snow White, fairest in all the lands, now also the deadliest assassin in the realm. Surely this isn't what any good father would wish for his daughter, least of all what a king would wish for his only heir, but she doesn't exactly have many options. She's spent months roaming the woods as a drifter, and then years after that perfecting the art of banditry. Those alone would make her parents weep, but to know their darling princess is feared by all? Well, they'd understand eventually; she's only doing what she needs to survive.

Including working with a pirate.

(She rolls her eyes just thinking about it.)

"We do this my way," she says, leaning over the desk in his cabin. "Quietly. The best kill is discovered when we're already miles away. The last thing we need is some guard spotting us and adding to the bounty on my head." She frowns. "Yours too, I suppose."

"Thank you, _princess_," Hook responds drily and she bristles. "How kind of you to consider me. And furthermore, this isn't my first roll in the hay."

She rolls her eyes - again - then fixes him with a glare full of daggers. "We aren't screwing them to death."

"I wasn't aware that was an option." He leers at her, and she suppresses yet another eyeroll.

"Please," she scoffs, "you'd be dead before you got below my waist. Unless, of course, you mean to screw Prince James, in which case by all means-"

"Fine, _your highness_," he says, cutting her off with a wave of his hook. "What's this plan of yours?"

.

Dead or alive.

It's an old trope, but it really is what most of the posters say. Dead or alive, though if your name is Snow White, then the queen wants you alive. Snow's realized this time and time again. Of course she's been captured before - once, twice; honestly she stopped counting altogether - but she's always escaped, because they've never tried to kill her. She's been beaten and knocked unconscious, but never anything close to a fatal wound.

And Snow knows fatal wounds well.

"Here we are."

She shakes herself, not quite startled but pulled from her thoughts as Hook tosses a heavy burlap sack on the table in front of her. "What's this?"

"You told me to find some disguises," he says, taking a seat and promptly kicking his feet up onto the table. "So I did."

"That was fast," she frowns, sifting through the pirate's booty (hah, pirate jokes are hilarious) until she comes up with a long flowing gown of red silk. "Where did you find them? Did you …?" _Steal them_. Yes, somehow something as simple as fine clothing is enough to toss her back to her time as a princess, when such evils as banditry and piracy were kept to horrified whispers.

"Pirate, love."

She scowls at him, then turns the bag upside down to let the rest of the contents fall out - two masks, and nice evening clothes for Hook. "You could have bought them," she suggests lamely.

"Aye, I could have."

Realizing what's done is done, and (moreover) that she isn't going to be making any progress with him, she sighs and gathers her half of the clothing. "Do you mind?"

He arches an eyebrow, folds his arms contentedly across his chest and grins. "No, not at all," he drawls. "Go right ahead."

Of course he would, the ass. "Please don't make me kill you," she groans, and apparently that - or (more likely) the reputation behind it - is enough to convince him, and he gathers his clothes before scurrying up the stairs and out of his cabin.

The dress fits well enough (although she isn't about to question Hook on his expertise in women's clothing), and the stolen mask - all black feathers with streaks of silver - compliments it well. Combined with her natural royal airs, the dress will make a perfect disguise. Now if only she can be sure her companion for the evening doesn't give them both away.

She's just tucking her third dagger away - there, strapped to the inside of her left thigh - when he makes his way back down the stairs. He looks the part of the handsome prince now, complete with a prosthetic hand. She moves on to dagger number four.

"Do you really need so many knives?" he asks with a grimace.

"Assassin, _love_," she replies with a cheeky smile.

"Right."

.

"Prince Charles and Princess Mary," she mutters under her breath, and digs her fingers into his arm. The ball is in full swing around them, full of light and sound and color. She's grateful for the masks, and not only because of her current status as_ wanted-very-alive-for-Regina's-amusement_. No, she's thankful that she won't have to meet any of her old peers face to face. It would only strike her with an acute sense of nostalgia, fill her with sadness and regret, and she has a job to do; no time for wallowing in the dark recesses of her mind.

"I was thinking on my feet," Hook shoots back, barely more than a whisper. "When you said it was a _masked ball_ I didn't expect to have to _introduce myself_. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the bloody masks to begin with?"

"We're talking about royalty here," she replies. "Not everything _needs_ to make sense."

He grumbles something else, some smart retort, but it's lost in the dull roar of the crowd. She doesn't care much for what he has to say anyways; they get through this night, nab the prince, and he'll take her share of the bounty as payment for her passage to safety. No more hiding, no more killing, just Snow White and a land where she isn't hunted and feared - a happy ending.

She allows him to lead her out onto the dance floor, and casts him an only mildly threatening gaze from behind her mask as he pulls her close. "You know how to waltz?"

"Aye," he replies, leading her gently. "I'm a pirate, not a barbarian. And, in another life, I was indeed a sort of gentleman."

"You?" she says with amusement. "A gentleman. Now, that's something I'd like to see."

He laughs at that and twirls her beneath his arm. "I can assure you, I was every bit a gentleman as much as you were once every bit a princess." The words are low, hardly more than a whisper.

"I suppose we all have our personal tragedies."

"Fallen from grace as we are," he adds, leading her in a promenade. "Speaking of _taking a fall_-"

"Smooth segue."

"-with all these masks, how are we supposed to find this _Prince James_ fellow?"

She scans the crowd, observing and cataloging based on body language instead of appearance. She'd always been an observer, ever since she was a child, and her ability to read people - to read potential targets - has been extremely helpful in her recent less-than-savory endeavors. She knows these people; she grew up with many of the princes and princesses that are currently being auctioned off for marriage (like cattle), and though she's never met Prince James, she spent a good deal of her childhood pulling on Abigail's pigtails. (And yes, she does feel a little bad for this little kink in her friend's nuptials, but she's also pretty sure Abigail would rather marry _anyone_ other than the infamously cocky Prince James.) Now if only she could pick her out of the-

"There he is," Snow says, twirling under Hook's arm to reposition them, and then nods at a couple in matching white masks, standing awkwardly in the corner.

Hook frowns. "How can you tell?"

"Because that's Princess Abigail, his fiancée."

"Ah," he says, clearly not following her at all. (She didn't expect him to.)

"So now we just wait for him to-" Abigail's companion - her fiancé, the man who must be Prince James - gives an exasperated sigh before leaving her, stalking across the ballroom. "There. He's leaving."

"Looks like our cue," Hook grins.

Snow counts to fifty, the even measure of the music aiding her in holding to a steady pace, while Hook turns her around the dance floor, edging her closer to where the prince had disappeared.

"_... forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine … fifty_," she murmurs. She ends their dance abruptly, pulling away to dip a curtsey.

Hook bows. "_Milady_."

And then she's gone, disappearing into the winding corridors of Midas's castle, searching for her prince.

.

Dispatching the guards had been easy enough. The prince, on the other hand, is a very different story.

She'd only meant to tackle him and restrain him until Hook could secure their escape route. Easy enough, she thought. This wasn't a hit, after all, but a bounty. And even the dead-or-alive variety paid nearly twice as much if your cargo still had a pulse upon delivery. Unfortunately for the prince, he'd tried to fight back. Foolish, foolish man. He'd pinned her, clearly certain he had the upper hand - _"You're a - girl." "Woman." _- and just as clearly unaware that she was about to clock him with a jewelry box.

Oops.

And then he'd still kept yelling, despite her many warnings, and she was forced to hit him again, then kick him in the head for good measure. At best, he was knocked out cold.

Oops again.

She's just in the middle of lecturing his prone form in hushed tones, warning him to be more careful next time, when Hook makes his appearance - _finally_ - stepping in from the dressing room with the rope for their escape slung over his shoulder. On second glance, she sees he's admiring a handful of jewels in his palm.

"What's that?" she barks, half-annoyed.

"Nothing," Hook responds breezily, pocketing his treasures and dropping the rope at her feet. He's divested himself of his mask and traded out his prosthetic for his hook. "Just think of it as _my fee_."

"Really?" she groans. "You just _had_ to steal something, didn't you?"

"That's what I do," he replies pointedly. "I'm a _pirate_. I _steal_ _things._" He pauses for a moment, finally bothering to actually take in his surroundings - two guards lie dead in the middle of the room, their necks turned at decidedly painful angles, and the prince lies in a heap in the corner, bleeding from his chin and forehead. There's a suspiciously bloody jewelry box upturned nearby. He nudges one of the guards with his boot. "What the bloody hell happened here?"

"I killed them." Obviously.

He moves on to the prince, giving him a careful prod as well. "You killed him!"

"That's what I do," she replies angrily. "I'm an _assassin_. I _kill shit_."

"Don't mock me, love," he warns, then sighs. "We were supposed to deliver him _alive_."

"Or dead," she adds helpfully, then frowns, considering the prince. "And he might not _actually_ be dead." She drops to one knee, leaning her head close and - yes, he's still breathing. "He's alive."

"Oh, good. I'm glad this whole lark hasn't gone to waste."

She can't help one last jab at him. "Well, maybe if you'd been in here _helping_ me instead of _jewelry shopping_ I wouldn't have had to almost-kill him at all."

He presses his hand to his chest and responds in a wounded tone, "The pirate's always to blame."

"Well, maybe if the pirate-" Her tirade is cut short by the sound of the prince groaning on the floor. "See?" she says petulantly. "He's fine."

"Wha-" the prince blinks, then puts a hand to his head - it must be pounding - only to wince at the contact. His fingers come away red. "What's going on? Who are you?"

"I believe this is where you come in, Captain."

Hook glares. "You were supposed to have him _restrained_."

"I knocked him unconscious. Even better."

"He's not bloody unconscious now, is he?" Hook shoots back angrily.

"Big babies," Snow huffs. "If you want something done right…" She kneels down beside the prince and casts him a warning glance as she reaches into her bodice for the restraints. "If you know what's smart, you'll cooperate."

The prince frowns, and his eyes widen as he recognizes her. "You're - Snow White."

_Fuck._

And then he's shouting, shoving her off of him and shouting some more. The thunder of guards rumbles through the corridor. By the sound of it, there's at least a dozen of them.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

"We've got to go," she says, as if that isn't obvious.

The prince has barreled into Hook, pinning him up against a wall, and he chokes, "Really? I hadn't noticed."

She lunges for the rope then races to the window to secure it on the ledge. She tugs on it once, twice, testing its strength.

"A little help here, love?"

She turns to find the prince pressing the captain's hook against his throat - apparently he doesn't see her as the bigger threat (how endearing). The pounding of the guards' feet grows closer, almost upon them. "Funny, I could've said the same thing earlier."

"_Snow_."

"Fine," she sighs, and takes the prince down with one well-placed stomp at the back of his knee. "Come on."

"What about him?"

"Leave him!"

"But-" _But_ he knows better than to argue with her. "Fine."

She pushes him out the window first, her hands on his chest. (And _oh_? What's that in his pocket? Wouldn't want this lovely ring to get lost. She'll just hold onto it for him.) She follows shortly after, rappelling down the side of the castle as the prince leans out the window, calling out into the night.

"You can't hide from me! Wherever you are, I _will_ find you!"

.

The first thing that registers in Snow's mind is that she's caught in a net. The second is that she's managed to drop all but one of her weapons in the process.

_Fuck._

It's a careless, rookie mistake. She's grown soft in the few days since she'd officially ended all business endeavors with the pirate - in the knowledge that she has _nearly _enough gold to give up the assassin life for good, that soon she'll have bought her freedom and she'll have a new life; a better life. And so she's gotten soft, carrying only a few daggers on her person at any given time. Two of which, in this case, she watched tumble and fall to the ground below when the net caught her.

But there's one more.

She slips it out from between her breasts, carefully, angles it to the rope and…

… promptly drops it.

_Double fuck._

A deep laugh echoes through the trees, and when she looks up, she finds none other than _Prince-fucking-James_ striding proudly toward her. Despite her precarious situation, she takes a certain amount of pride in the fact that the large gash on his jaw has not yet healed. "I told you I'd find you," he says, grinning from ear to ear. "No matter what you do, I'll always find you."

"Is this the only way you can catch a woman?" she snipes. "By entrapping her?"

"It's the only way to catch thieving, murdering scum," he says, then casts her an amused look. "You know, you're kind of cute when you're not trying to kill me."

She snorts and deadpans, "Aren't you a real Prince Charming."

"I have a name, you know."

"Don't care," she says. "Charming suits you."

He laughs again, folding his arms across his chest. "Don't worry, I'm not here to turn you in. I'm here to collect a certain _ring_ you stole from me."

"A ring?" she gasps, putting on a mask of surprise.

"I'd meant to give it to my fiancée by the end of the night," he says. "It belonged to my mother."

She changes her expression to one of innocence. "Sorry, not the jewelry type."

"Indeed. I noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you insulting me?"

"My apologies," Charming says with faux sincerity. "How dare I cast aspersions at the person who _robbed _me and nearly _killed_ me."

"Oh, please. You weren't anywhere close to dead."

He scoffs, moving his hands to his hips. "Not for lack of trying, I'm sure."

"More insults! How charming, Charming."

"I told you-"

She cuts him off, waving her hand in the air. "Yes, yes, I know. You have a name."

He huffs. "Where's my ring?"

"I sold it," she says evenly.

Apparently, the prince hadn't been expecting that. "You - you what?"

"I sold it to some trolls, about a day's journey from here," she says, a plan forming in her mind. Of course she could get out of this net on her own - knife or no knife - given enough time. But if he alerted Regina's guards to her presence … she may not have enough time. She can't afford that kind of risk. "How about this? You cut me down, and I help you get your ring back."

Charming considers this for a moment. "Sounds like an awful lot of work just to get out of a net."

_Just to get out of a net_. Hah. Just to get out of a net, clock him upside the head again, get him properly bound this time and deliver him all on her own. She'll collect the entire bounty for herself, no need to share with an unsavory pirate. "What can I say? I'm feeling generous."

He eyes her. "You? Generous?"

She grins. "Well, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of true love."

And he cuts her down.


End file.
